


Morpheusestina

by Threadhead



Category: The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Poetry, Sestina
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2019-12-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:26:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21862165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Threadhead/pseuds/Threadhead
Summary: Does what it says on the tin.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Morpheusestina

Midwinter eve: I struggle with my cloak  
In drifted snow; above me evening's star  
Doth beckon me to sleep. But stay awake  
I must, until my weary blinking eye  
Should see a lamp that beckons in the night.  
So may my voyage end with welcome's flame.

Now through the trees a gleam of golden flame  
Betokens food, and no more sodden cloaks.  
Warm rooms, clean sheets, mulled wine, a restful night.  
Indoors is best for watching distant stars  
Whose light has traveled far to meet the eyes  
Of those who love the moment when they wake.

I see a lace-white foaming curling wake  
On turquoise-glimmered cobalt sea, sun's flame  
So bright it makes me turn my head, my eye  
Spills small fresh tears which, wind-whipped, wet my cloak.  
I cannot find the course, there's no north star.  
I touch the mast and wait for fall of night.

The ship is gone, and here's an armored knight  
Whose squire carries lances in his wake,  
A red carbuncle shining like a star  
Atop his helm to shed a ruby flame,  
A relic in his sword, a damask cloak  
Which rustles as I fail to meet his eye.

A bird's aloft, whose circling draws my eye.  
The pearl-gray clouds will spit at me all night.  
I stumble, fall, am tangled in my cloak,  
Lie still a while, until I start awake.  
Where is my staff? I'd burn it for its flame,  
Except the snow would swallow its young star.

It's not a lamplit inn, it's just a star  
Whose light, refracted in my tear-stung eye,  
Has to my sorrow mimicked torches' flame:  
No ship, no steed, but trees and endless night.  
I must not sleep, or never shall I wake;  
They'll find me in the spring in Flora's cloak.

Is this the end of all my starry nights?  
Are my dreams done? Or is it that I wake  
And catch a fleeting glimpse of flaming cloak?

**Author's Note:**

> My only fanwork, written in 2003. But if I don't post it, how can I claim to be a Hugo winner?


End file.
